


Not the Kind of Fool Who's Gonna Sit and Sing to You

by afellowofinfinitejest



Series: Jerome Smut [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afellowofinfinitejest/pseuds/afellowofinfinitejest
Summary: Requested by Anonymous: 'would you write a Jerome x reader smut where it's readers birthday and Jerome decides to drop in that night and give her an extra special gift?'





	Not the Kind of Fool Who's Gonna Sit and Sing to You

You had spent the whole day alone, not speaking at all during or after the show. Some of the Grayson’s had wished you a Happy Birthday, but they all knew for you it was bitter more than sweet. You hate being in Gotham, after what happened. 

You’re getting yourself comfortable, ready to sleep the rest of your time in this cursed place away, when a sharp knock sounds from the other side of the trailer. You frown, wondering who it could be. The circus was closed, so it could not be visitors searching to meet a performer. Another series of knocks follows the silence, not letting up until you yell. “I’m coming!”

You leave the warmth of your bed despondently, ready to curse whoever is waiting for you. You open the door carelessly, and any barbed words leave your mind at the sight of him. That grin, large on his face in the same way it was before he was thrown in Arkham. There’s a moment of joy that you can’t deny, something that screams, there he is, the boy you missed. After that moment has passed, all that’s left is fear. Jerome acts quicker than you do, reaching his hand out to keep the door in place before you can make the move to close it. 

He makes the step forward into your trailer, watching as you head back. You gasp when he pulls a gun out from his jacket, moving through the room without taking your eyes from him. “Oh, don’t worry about this,” he says, raising the weapon playfully before placing it down on the counter. “It’s not for you.”

A quivering breath escapes you, but the feeling of relief is short lived. You remind yourself who he is, what he did. “You shouldn’t be here, Jerome.” 

“Now, gorgeous, is that any way to greet me?” He laughs, shaking his head at you chidingly. “And I worked so hard to get here for your special day.”

Despite yourself, you raise your eyebrows at him, feeling a flash of confusion that he would bother to remember. Jerome’s smiling at you. He’s obviously pleased that your initial resentment seems to have dissipated. You bite your lip harshly, chiding yourself for feeling joy at his basic show of human decency. 

He left you alone, he killed his mother.

“How did you think I would greet you?” You are still wary, but less frightened, and Jerome feels a wave of satisfaction. He knew. He knew he could gain back your affections. You just need encouragement.

“I don’t know,” he says, turning his head to the side. “Didn’t really think about it. Just thought I’d visit you, give you your gift.” His tone isn’t sinister, but there’s something there which sends a shiver through your body. He’s still grinning, watching you. Curiosity killed the cat, you think.

Then, satisfaction brought it back. “What gift?”

Jerome’s eyes light up at your tone, like an excited child, trying desperately to hide it. You keep your eyes on him while he walks carelessly towards you. In front of you now, you have to tilt your head up to keep sight of his face. Jerome grins, reaching towards you to hold the back of your neck. You blink, feeling your heart beat faster. You know you should push him, do anything to get him away from you, but he smells like grass and smoke, is looking at you almost tenderly. His lips find yours the second you lean towards him. Your noses bump, your teeth clash, but then he has another hand at your face. You feel guided, opening your mouth for his tongue when he pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth. Underneath mint and spit, Jerome tastes of the same smoke you smelt on him.

Jerome’s hands move to your waist, guiding you backwards towards your bed. He breaks away for only a second, pulling your night shirt off and moving his hands across your exposed skin as he draws you back. When your knees hit your bed, Jerome lowers you gently, holding himself over you with his elbows. He opens your legs, pressing himself against you and grunting softly. 

It’s then that you realise entirely what you’re doing, letting him touch you, encouraging him to touch you. Jerome feels you hesitate, releases your lips in favour of kissing down your body. He bites at your collar bone, pulling the skin between his teeth as he look to your face. He presses his tongue to the sore place, keeping eye contact with you. You whimper. It’s illicit, the way he can make you feel with a few kisses and an unspoken promise of more. The guilt you felt falls away as the wetness between your legs builds, and you watch silently as Jerome makes his way to your breasts. 

He tastes the soft curve around the top of your bra before he pulls the cups from your skin, holding your nipple between his lips. He runs his tongue over the sensitive bud then moves to the other, grazing the underside with his bottom teeth. 

You’re breathing so heavily, so unsure of what to do. Part of you wants to hold on to his hair, push him further down. Another wants to keep him where he is. Jerome makes the decision for you, using his hands to keep playing with your nipples as he presses his face to your stomach. 

All pretense of romantics vanishes when he gets past your hips.

Jerome holds on to your ankles, drags you towards him until your hips are sitting at the edge of the mattress. He sinks to his knees, running his nails down your calves as he kisses the end of your thigh. He makes his way up slowly, never looking you in the eye, ignoring the soft whimpers moving from your throat. At the softest part of your leg, Jerome pauses, biting down on your skin with his teeth. You gasp, the dull pain only increasing your arousal. He starts on your other leg. You whine, grasping on to his hair. “Please.”

“Want to bruise you,” he says when he’s finished on the second bite. “Want you to feel them, later. Want you to remember this every time you move.”

Satisfaction runs through him when you push your hips up. You laugh lightly at his reasoning, running a hand through your hair to relieve your forehead from the heat. “I doubt I’ll forget.”

He presses his thumb to your clit over your underwear. The touch, while momentarily satisfying, brings you little relief. You whine again, kicking your legs in an attempt to hurry him as Jerome pulls your underwear down off your ankles. He smirks to the side, eyes flickering to your face. He’s wanted to see you desperate for so long, doesn’t know entirely if he’s ready to give it up. But you’re keening, and it is your Birthday, after all.

Jerome moves the flat of his tongue up over your sex to your clit before pressing the tip against it. You make a noise of appreciation. Your hands are in his hair, your legs wide open for him. Jerome looks at you from between your legs, never pausing from licking pointedly at your clit. The sight of him, his pupils filling space in his eyes, the edge of his smile only just visible to you, sends heat to your sex. Your clit pulses under his tongue, and the pleasure moves from there through your thighs and up your spine until you’re crying out. Jerome grunts at the feeling of you tugging at his hair roughly as you cum, gasping his name. 

He pulls back when your thighs start to twitch, but stays where he is on his knees. You reach to pull his lips to yours but Jerome shakes his head, blowing cold air against your flushed sex. He grins, showing the sharp lines of his teeth. 

Without warning, he presses his middle finger inside you, his cock twitching at the sudden tight clench of your cunt. Jerome fills you with a second digit, drags the pads of his fingers over your walls, pressing the spot that makes you pant. He anchors his fingers inside you, rocking against that spot again and again instead of drawing away. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, all too soon you’re on a knife edge, your mind hazy with the need for release. Jerome moves so that the heel of his hand provides delicious friction around your clit, but it’s not enough. 

He’s still watching you from between your legs. The red tops of your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. Jerome manoeuvres his wrist, allowing space for him to suck and lick your throbbing centre. You cum with a shout, hips rolling shamelessly, but this time Jerome doesn’t stop. His touch on your clit, sensitive under his tongue, sends you in to a state of uncomfortable gratification. Jerome sucks harshly against the nerves, his fingers still moving inside you.

“Jerome- I can’t,” you gasp. Your hips naturally move away from him, but he uses his left hand to hold you close. 

“You can,” he says, lips drifting over you as they move. “You will.”

“Jerome!” It’s too much. You’re thrashing wildly, the heel of your foot pressing against his shoulder. The orgasm he drags from you has you shaking before it even starts. “Jerome, Jerome, Jerome.” He pulls his hand from you to hold you to his mouth. He gives your clit a long lick before pulling it between his lips, brushing his teeth against you. Tears fall from your closed eyes at the intensity of it all, numbing you from your sex to your feet. In your daze, you hear Jerome swear.

He leans over you, kissing your open mouth. He licks your tongue, moaning when you respond, taking your taste from him. Jerome’s face is covered in your essence. “You’re fucking amazing. So good. You fell apart for me, didn’t you, dirty girl?” 

You hum, only just registering the wetness down your thighs, realising the point he took you to. Your whole body is numb to his hands, drifting across you in a way that would be gentle if it weren’t for the sharp curve of his nails on your skin. “My little squirter.” He shakes against you as he chuckles.

The crude language would make you squirm with anybody else, but Jerome had never censored himself around you. 

“You didn’t cum.”

Jerome feels a wave of satisfaction at your willingness to please him, almost wants to remind you that you were all too easy to bring around from wanting to run away. Instead, he moves your weighted body to pull your covers around you. “It’s your Birthday, gorgeous. We’ve got the rest of your life to get to me.”

Your body is heavy from the over stimulation, and you fall into sleep easily, forgetting your own lack of trust in him. 

He’ll be there the next morning, hands drifting over your body, reminding you that it’s not your Birthday anymore and he’s not always so selfless.

**Author's Note:**

> This can also be read on my tumblr afellowofinfinitejest.


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